


You Dance When You Walk (1/4)

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-21
Updated: 2006-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Well you dance when you walk so let's dance, take a chance, understand me, you're dirty, sweet and you're my...</i><br/>Frakking the school teacher was good, frakking the president was great, but being frakked by the confident woman was maybe best of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Dance When You Walk (1/4)

**Author's Note:**

> A set of multifandom PWP ficlets. Title and summary are from T.Rex's "Get It On (Bang a Gong)" with a nod to The Power Station. Also, _lalala Fat!Lee, I can't hear you._
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works.

Life defeats death. It's the only thing that can. At least that's what she had told him as they spoke of those who were gone. Life defeats death, and only in living do you honor the dead. And honoring the dead, he thought, was the only thing left for you to do when you had failed them and allowed them to die.

He hadn't said that, but somehow she had heard it.

"We've all failed." She placed her arms around his neck, ran one hand through the too-long hair at the base of his skull and traced his mouth with the other. "The only thing left to us now is to decide if we go on or die with them."

He didn't ask who she wanted to die with. She didn't ask who he lived for. They had a silent agreement that some things were best left unsaid, and ties to others, good or bad, were first among those unspoken words.

Once again she brushed her hand over his lips, as if sealing those words in. He bit her finger instead of his tongue and counted himself lucky he was granted such a satisfying way of keeping secrets. He gripped her hips in his hands and pulled her close. "I've missed you."

She laughed and he wondered how often she'd laughed without him, or if she'd found reasons to laugh on New Caprica. "And I you, Commander." She tipped her head back, glasses seeming to brush her lashes, and considered him. "Are you still a commander without your command?"

He shook his head. He'd been in no rush to push for a decision on that. "I don't know."

"What shall I call you, then?"

That, more than anything, was what he'd missed: the challenge, the probing questions, the way she was looking so seriously at him while she was pulling his shirt from his pants and scraping her fingernails across his back. "Gods, Laura."

"I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?"

No. It didn't matter. What mattered was living for the dead instead of dying for the living. What mattered was that thing she was doing with her hands and the way his knees buckled, and how her body felt in his arms. He told her that and she shushed him, the school teacher momentarily pushing the sex kitten aside. Frakking the school teacher was good, frakking the president was great, but being frakked by the confident woman was maybe best of all.

"Laura," he said, shaping what he wanted with his eyes and his mouth. "Laura."

She raised her eyebrows and took her hand from his neck long enough to remove her glasses, folding them carefully and placing them on the desk. "Really."

"Yes." He took her wrist in his hand. "Yes." She twisted until her fingers were on top, his wrist bound securely. "Yes."

"Apollo," she said. "I think I'll call you Apollo."

Yes.


End file.
